


Dreams and Nightmares

by May



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Breast Play, Car Sex, Drunk Sex, F/F, Multi, Public Sex, Threesome, Vaginal Fingering, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-10 08:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12295743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May/pseuds/May
Summary: Kristen meets Barbara in a bar, and things lead on from there.





	Dreams and Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tunglo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunglo/gifts).



Sometimes, Kristen really needs a drink.

There’s a bar a little way away from the GCPD, not close enough that she bumps into work colleagues of any stripe, and god knows she needs to get away from that, sometimes. The records room is windowless and hidden away in the meat of the building, and she spends her days sorting through Gotham’s worst, while half of them sit in the room next door. Getting out feels like being released and, today, the sky is grey and the air is crisp. Kristen wraps her blue woollen scarf around her ears and steps out into the early evening.

The bar is decorated in muted reds and browns, and there are pictures on the walls. Paintings of quiet rooms and cats and stylised women in hats. Not a rowdy policeman’s bar, or a moody policeman’s bar, for that matter. Because Kristen is between boyfriends, she has nobody she has to meet, and can spend some time to herself. The bartenders change up often and seem young, like students, so they never acknowledge her, which is fine, because there’s a point after work where you just want to be quiet.

She orders white wine, something dry. Pinot grigio will do. Sometimes, she goes for a rosé wine, if the weather is warm and the sweetness is refreshing. But it’s October, and a cool white wine will do just fine.

Kristen slides into a booth in the corner and begins drinking her wine; it’s cool on her tongue, but the alcohol is warm going down her throat. She can deflate, here.

The door jangles as it opens and she looks up, perhaps instinctively. It’s not out of the question that somebody from the precinct might have come to her bar, even though they usually didn’t. But, still, it’s easy to get a crawling tension across your shoulders when you work in the GCPD.

It’s nobody Kristen works with. It _is_ someone she recognises, though. She’s seen the blonde curls in grainy newspaper photos, she’s seen the sculpted bone structure on late night news, she’s seen the delicate mouth in the photograph she sorted into a folder. She’s seen her in person, before, standing at the door of the precinct, outlined by sunlight in a frock coat and heels, like something celestial and devastating.

And, now, Barbara Kean is standing ten feet away, in a little bar that’s Kristen’s on an early evening, hair curled down over the shoulders of a pink princess coat, stiletto-heeled feet pressed primly together. Kristen’s fingers slide to the bottom of the stem of her glass, and she doesn’t know if she feels fear or fascination. It’s a heady sensation, one that’s trying to make her go in two directions at once.

Barbara approaches the bar, and Kristen looks straight ahead, out at the window and at the street beyond. Barbara moves in her peripheral vision, and Kristen doesn’t dare look around and see what reaction the bartender is having to seeing her.

Kristen focuses on her wine and straightens her back. There is probably no reason to worry about it. Barbara is alone, and she’s having a single drink. Perhaps she’s just in the same situation that Kristen is. Being a noted criminal must be exhausting.

“I know you!” She has a full, sunny voice, and Kristen realises the sudden oddness of never having heard her speak. It’s strange to so rarely hear these figures speak, she thinks. It takes a moment for her to realise that Barbara is talking to her.

Kristen looks up to see her staring at her, her eyes a vivid blue. Kristen’s voice is caught in her throat for a moment.

“I think you’re mistaken,” she manages to say, keeping her voice level. She thinks it stays level; she’s had a lot of practice maintaining a level tone. Sometimes, you need not to agitate.

“No,” says Barbara, with a shake of her ringlets. “You work at the GCPD. I saw you.”

Her face has turned serious, her mouth pursing. Kristen thinks that her heart is going to leap out of her mouth, before Barbara laughs.

“Aw, don’t be nervous,” she says. “Come here, I’ll buy you a drink.”

Kristen stays where she is, hesitant, although something inside her is definitely curious. Barbara is certainly a different kind of terrible than the kind that she’s used to.

“Come on,” trills Barbara, like she’s soothing an animal, and she beckons, her fingernails tipped with blue varnish. “I don’t bite. Really.”

Something turns over inside Kristen, and she wants to, and it’s probably just as dangerous staying where she is. But she moves, slides out of her booth and gathers her coat and scarf to fold over her arms. Barbara watches her cross the floor, and her eyes flicker from head to toe, and Kristen’s stomach flips, and she takes a breath. She smiles. There’s something so bright and alluring about Barbara, like a poisonous flower.

“Well, aren’t you pretty!” says Barbara, and she beams. When she smiles, Kristen can understand why it would be difficult not to want to crawl on your knees before her. Kristen blushes, like the sun itself is shining onto her cheeks. For some reason, Barbara inspires more bashfulness than your average policeman. It’s not like Kristen has never been called beautiful, but never by somebody like Barbara. “What’s your name, darling?”

“Kristen,” manages Kristen. “Kringle. Kristen Kringle”

“Pretty girl with a pretty name,” says Barbara. “I’m Barbara, but you’ve definitely heard of me, right?”

Kristen stammers, and Barbara reaches a hand, and runs a finger down Kristen’s nose. “So, Kristen, I’m not going to mince my words. I’ve spent too long being too quiet. And I think you have, too,” she says. “Do you want to come with me? I’m giving you a choice, here.”

Kristen can’t really turn her down.

 

Barbara takes her hand and leads her outside to where a large black car sits. Kristen doesn’t know anything about cars, especially fancy cars, but she knows that this one must be expensive. Barbara doesn’t bother summoning the driver from behind the wheel, and opens the door for Kristen. Kristen slides in, finding herself sitting on plush black leather.

There’s another woman in the car, and she’s beautiful and poised like a tightly coiled spring. She has dark, luminous skin and eyelashes like butterflies. Kristen gives her a small smile, and the woman looks her over, and raises her eyebrows. Kristen sits in the center of the seat, Barbara sliding in after her.

“She’s cute,” says the woman. “What’s her name?”

“Her name is Kristen,” says Barbara. “You should tell her yours.”

“Tabitha,” says the woman. And Kristen does recognise her. It’s the sister of the new mayoral candidate. She’d seen her pictures, gorgeous in designer gowns and beautifully insouciant. “You want some champagne?”

Without waiting for Kristen to respond, Tabitha hands her a flute of cool, bubbling drink. Kristen takes it. She wants to drink it in one go, but it seems impolite. But Tabitha is watching her, and Barbara is likely watching her, too, so she knocks it back, feeling the bubbles on her tongue and the alcohol in her throat. Tabitha smiles, and it’s a surprisingly fond smile.

“She’s adorable,” says Tabitha, and she looks at Kristen. “Have another one.”

She pours another, and Kristen feels as if she should drink this, too and, god, she certainly wants to. Tabitha laughs, and gives her more.

“Don’t worry, we’re never going to run out,” she says. “Have as much as you want.”

The journey lasts a while, and Kristen takes the permission to drink more and more champagne. It feels good, and it feels right, and Tabitha and Barbara are looking at her like she’s the most precious thing in the world. Her head goes pleasantly fuzzy, and she’s missed this. Comfortable drinking, not drinking out of stress.

Barbara puts a hand on her knee, gently and softly, and Kristen lets her. It rests there for a moment, before the hand starts moving up the inside of her leg, the fingers grazing her inner thigh. Through the fog of the drink, it feels so good. Nothing heavy, just gentle touches from somebody who’ll slit throats and think nothing of it.

Barbara’s fingertips graze back and force, and Kristen feels Tabitha’s hand on her chin, and her head turns towards her. Barbara’s hand on her thigh, Kristen accepts a kiss from Tabitha, and its sweet but just a little bit firm. It’s nice.

Her head feels foggy, and she rests it on the back of the seats and closes her eyes, concentrating on Barbara’s fingers stroking and snaking up her leg. She can smell Barbara’s perfume, and it’s a sweet, sweet vanilla. When Barbara reaches the top of her thigh, Kristen lets her legs fall open a little, to allow her fingers better access.

“What a good, good girl,” purrs Barbara, and her voice thrums somewhere in Kristen’s chest, just under her breastbone.

A finger – she’s sure it’s Tabitha’s – brushes across Kristen’s cheek, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The movement is leisurely, and somehow amplified by the fog of the drink and Barbara’s wandering fingers.

“Do you think we can keep her?” says Tabitha. There’s a fluttering in Kristen’s chest, and a throb between her legs, and she can’t quite put down why.

“Maybe,” says Barbara. “I kind of want to. None of our hostages are this cute.”

Barbara’s fingers reach between Kristen’s legs, and she uses one finger to trace little circles on the outside of her underwear, just missing the slit of her cunt, despite it being open to her. Kristen feels herself swelling and turning red, and she involuntarily tilts her hips. It makes them both laugh, and Kristen would blush, but she just wants to be touched more.

She opens her eyes and looks at Tabitha, who is astonishingly beautiful in a way that Kristen doesn’t think that she could really get used to. Tabitha lifts her hand again to trace down the side of her face, dragging her fingers over the dip of her throat, making Kristen tilt her head to the side. But Tabitha continues, until she reaches Kristen’s breasts. She cups her through her sweater, briefly, before lowering her hand to slip it underneath the wool. Kristen lets Tabitha’s hand wander, lets her free her breast from her bra. She runs a thumb over her nipple and it’s only a small thing but, together with what Barbara’s fingers are doing, it just adds to everything bringing her slowly to the edge. She arches her back, and lets her breath hitch in her throat.

“Mm, she likes it,” says Tabitha.

“What do you say you take that off, Kristen?” says Barbara. “Show us what’s underneath.”

Kristen manages a nod, and she doesn’t want to move away from either of their fingers, but Tabitha lifts the hem of her sweater and, somehow, manages to guide it over her head. Her shirt goes with it, and she’s left in her bra, one breast exposed. Tabitha cups her naked breast, and Barbara uncovers the other one, before grabbing her nipple, pinching it between her fingers. It pulls a noise from Kristen’s throat, almost involuntarily. It feels a little like they’re appraising her.

“Aw, that’s so cute,” says Barbara, and she gives Kristen’s breast a nudge so it bounces a little. “Hey, I bet I know what you would like, next.”

“I know what I’d like,” says Tabitha, and Kristen’s cunt throbs and aches over a tone in her voice, and she wriggles her hips.

They giggle. “I guess she wants it, too,” replies Barbara, brightly.

Kristen feels both of Barbara’s hand slide under her skirt and take the edge of her underwear.

“Lift your hips, sweetie,” says Barbara and Kristen does, and the heat between her legs flairs as she moves. Barbara pulls away her underwear, pulls them down and off of her legs completely. The air in the car is warm. Barbara doesn’t touch her, yet and, instead, she pulls Kristen’s skirt up to her hips, and this leaves Kristen entirely exposed. She doesn’t hate this. She doesn’t hate this at all.

Barbara opens Kristen’s legs wider, and Kristen is sure that her cunt is visibly throbbing. She can feel them both looking, staring at her stretched open wide on the back seat of a car.

“Isn’t it pretty?” says Barbara.

“She’s so wet,” says Tabitha. “I bet we could both get a couple of fingers in there.”

Kristen feels Barbara spread her open, so that they both can see more of her. She feels herself twitch, and she makes a noise. It’s a soft, delicate noise, but she needs to be touched more firmly.

“There you go, honey,” says Barbara. “Why don’t you go first?”

“Please…” moans Kristen.

Tabitha smiles, showing her teeth, before Kristen can feel her hand on her thigh. It feels as if her cunt is begging without her saying a thing. One of Tabitha’s slender fingers slips inside her, and Kristen gasps. It’s not enough to feel tight around, but she clenches around it, anyway. She needs more than that. In what seems like an agonisingly slow moment, Tabitha slips another finger inside her, her knuckle brushing against her clit. It’s a little tighter, now.

Kristen squirms, and Tabitha starts moving her fingers.

“How is it?” asks Barbara.

“Good,” says Tabitha. She crooks a finger and Kristen makes a squeak of a sound. “I love the noises she makes.”

“Sweet, aren’t they?” says Barbara. Her fingers move, until one of them stops at Kristen’s entrance, just hesitates right there on the edge.

Then, Barbara slips her finger in alongside Tabitha’s, and she doesn’t wait as long to slip in a second one. Now, now it feels tight, especially with all of the knuckles, and the fact that their rhythm is slightly off base. Kristen shifts, and begins to fuck herself on them.

“I knew this was what you needed, sweetie,” says Barbara, softly, and she kisses her on the cheek as Kristen grinds on their fingers. They’re all moving inside her, and fingers aren’t terribly long, but four of them make her feel full. She’s heading towards something, now; it’s building inside of her.

When she hits her climax, it rattles through her, like something has been amassing up for much longer than just this evening. The aftermath leaves her truly spent, and she leans back in the car, half-naked and breathing heavily. Tabitha and Barbara watch her with no small amount of satisfaction.

“Now, that was fun, wasn’t it?” says Barbara. She turns to Tabitha. “Let’s take her home and clean her up.”

“Sounds good to me,” says Tabitha.

Kristen doesn’t argue.


End file.
